


Managing

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2795426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darry’s been pretty good at keeping things together, but Sodapop knows him too well</p>
            </blockquote>





	Managing

Three months after his 18th birthday, Darry had gotten a full time job, figuring he could live at home for a bit, save up money, and in a couple years actually go to college. Three months after his 20th birthday, Darry had gotten two dead parents and custody of his younger brothers. He’d thought he’d been an adult at 18, but being a parent adult was ten kinds of different adulthood. And he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

It’d become a nightly ritual for him, worrying over the kitchen table about bills before moving into his room and worrying over how he was supposed to take care of two teenagers, worrying over Ponyboy’s nightmares and Sodapop’s increasing recklessness. He barely slept these days, even though he came home exhausted from working. He didn’t have time for his own grief, which manifested mostly in a desire for his parents to come back and keep him from completely fucking everything up.

It became his routine—work, try to pay bills, cut the budget where he could, fill out application after application for a second job, make sure his brothers were doing their homework, or at least accounted for, go to his room and try to sleep. It wasn’t a great way to live, but it was living, mostly, and he was managing.

About a month later, he’d found a second job, and a week after that, on a Wednesday night, Soda interrupted his nightly ritual by knocking on his door and barging in before Darry could even answer. He’d just gotten home from his shift and was wringing his DX cap in his hands. “Can we talk?” he asked.

“Yeah sure,” Darry said. “Is something wrong?” His thoughts went to Ponyboy and his nightmares. They’d been better since Soda had moved into the kid’s room; at least, Darry _thought_ so. Ponyboy was good at hiding things.

“Uh, not exactly,” Soda said. He was quiet for a moment, fidgeting, and then he said, quickly, words tumbling over each other, “I’m dropping out. Look, I’ve been plannin’ this for months, and I was gonna tell Mom and Dad, but well, and it’s not even ‘bout you needin’ help with money, though you do and you can’t say you don’t, I’m just no good at school and you know it and I’m 16 and all I need for you t’ do is sign this paper, I already talked to the principal and everything, and there’s really no—,”

“Soda,” Darry interrupted and was almost amused at how quickly his brother fell still and silent. It didn’t last long, before he was twisting his hat in his hands again, but he didn’t say anything, waiting. “I’ll sign,” he said, hating himself because he didn’t really know what his parents would have done. But he knew Soda was right too; he’d always struggled in school and skipped it nowadays more often than not. And, Darry hated to admit it, but he could use some help with money.

The smile Soda sent his way lessened the guilt squeezing at his stomach. Soda’s smile left as quickly as it had come, fading into a concerned frown. “Are _you_ okay?” Soda asked.

Darry raised his eyebrows. “Don’t get mouthy on me now ‘cause I don’t have to sign that paper.”

Soda shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. All you do is work and hole yourself up in here, worrying about shit. Or yell about other shit.”

“I don’t yell that much,” Darry said, hurt.

Soda grinned. “You yell way more ‘n Mom and Dad ever did.” He came over and hopped onto the bed next to where Darry was sitting, folding his legs underneath him. “But you’re stressed, ain’t ya? And you won’t even talk to anyone about it.”

Darry was silent for so long he thought Soda’d give up and go away, but his kid brother could be surprisingly patient and still when he wanted to be. After a while, he spoke again, voice hushed, like he was confessing to some great sin. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Hell, I don’t expect ya to,” Soda said, elbowing him gently. “And Ponyboy, well, he’ll understand.”

“He hates me,” Darry said miserably. “Or he’s going to if he don’t already.”

“No he don’t,” Soda said sharply, though Darry could still see amusement in his eyes. “Who knew you had so much pity to throw yourself a party. He’s just 13 and greivin’ is all. You remember bein’ 13.”

Darry did and made a face just thinking about it. Sodapop laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. “See? No use in makin’ yourself go gray so young over puberty or else you’ll be an old man ‘for the month is over.”

That earned a chuckle from Darry. It didn’t last long, and as it died, Darry leaned back against his pillows, arms behind his head. Soda flopped down next to him, resting his head on Darry’s chest, DX hat still held loosely in one hand.

And leave it to Soda to have seen right through him, to use dropping out as some ulterior motive to get him to let his guard down, because next thing Darry knew, he was crying. He hadn’t cried in years, not since he was 14 and Lisa Richards broke up with him for some boy who dressed nicer, and he hadn’t been able to after his parents died, for his brothers’ sakes. But here he was, bawling like a baby.

“I miss Mom and Dad,” he said between the shuddering gasps for breath (and God, crying fucking _sucked_ ).

Soda didn’t move except to take his hand. “I know, Dar,” he said softly, stroking Darry’s hand with his thumb. “I know.”


End file.
